<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>All I Want for Christmas Is a Rimjob by plutosrose</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352307">All I Want for Christmas Is a Rimjob</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutosrose/pseuds/plutosrose'>plutosrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Proudly Serving [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Christmas Party, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Service Top Steve, slightly PWP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:07:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutosrose/pseuds/plutosrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, there’s something that I really, really want for Christmas,” Bucky grinned against his lips.</p><p>Steve grinned back, fingers toying with the edges of Bucky’s sweatpants. “Anything you want, and it’s yours, Buck.” </p><p>“I want you to rip these off me and rim me until I forget my name,” Bucky smirked.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Proudly Serving [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>277</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All I Want for Christmas Is a Rimjob</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Bucky had said, leaning on the counter of the coffee kiosk. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?” </p><p>“Well, uh,” Steve started, “Usually I go to Sam’s mom’s house.” Darlene had insisted after Sam had, (apparently by accident, though Steve had never believed that one), let slip that he had been planning to visit his mother’s grave. She’d pronounced that ‘too sad’ and insisted that he come over for a frankly excessive amount of eggnog and Christmas cookies. </p><p>“Well that should work out perfectly, then,” Bucky smiled, reaching out to run his fingers against Steve’s arm. “Because my parents are having a Christmas Eve party, and I’d really like it if you came.” </p><p>Bucky said ‘really like it’ like he was telling him a filthy secret, smiling coyly like there wasn’t a long line of people next to them who were tsking and huffing and barely containing the fact that they were annoyed that Bucky was ignoring the line. Honestly, at this point, Steve wasn’t sure why any of them bothered--Bucky had made it clear that serving coffee was not his priority, and Steve had felt guilty hearing this up until the point that Bucky had, more or less, sucked his brains out of his dick in his kitchen.</p><p>Then again, it wasn’t like he had a lot of brains when it came to Bucky to begin with.</p><p>“Yeah sure, I’ll be there,” Steve smiled, a blush creeping across his features as the memory of Bucky on his knees in his apartment, looking up at him as he swirled his tongue around the head of his cock settling into the front of his mind. </p><p>“Great,” Bucky beamed, pressing a sloppy kiss against his cheek that made him turn an even more furious shade of red.</p><p>-</p><p>George and Winifred Barnes lived in a townhouse in Brooklyn that Steve was pretty certain was only a couple blocks away from where he’d grown up. Not that it mattered one way or the other, but the realization made him feel a little more at ease in the way that only Brooklyn really could.</p><p>Steve was, at this point, used to being trotted out in front of crowds, being asked for autographs when he and Sam were out to lunch together, or being stopped for a selfie on his morning run. But both George and Winifred were at ease, all smiles--George had even offered him some scotch that Bucky had told him was ‘extremely expensive.’ When Steve had initially demured and said he couldn’t get drunk, George had simply shrugged and said, “I’d still like to offer it to a man who I know will appreciate the taste.” </p><p>In fact, the only person who had seemed remotely flustered was Bucky’s sister Becca, and that was only because her son Nathaniel (who had announced that he was now four years old, thank you very much) had a) tried to tackle him; b) called him “Mr. America” repeatedly; and c) peppered him with questions about whether he could fly or had laser vision.</p><p>“It’s really fine,” he’d said smoothly, “it’s better than half the questions I get from reporters.” He didn’t miss the little grin that Bucky gave him, or the way that he reached out to squeeze his hand when they all sat down to dinner about half an hour later.</p><p>-</p><p>“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” Steve admitted on Christmas morning after Bucky had made a pancake breakfast, caging Bucky in against the sink. They’d fallen asleep, tangled together, sometime after Steve had admitted that he was extremely flattered that George and Winifred had gone out of their way to make him feel included, (not to mention the watch that Winifred had handed to him with pride when they’d started exchanging gifts). </p><p>Bucky wrapped his arms around his neck. </p><p>“Oh? Guess that makes me pretty special, then,” Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss against Steve’s jaw. </p><p>Steve hummed his approval. “You already knew that you were pretty special.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Bucky grinned wickedly. “But I never get tired hearing it.” </p><p>Steve ran his hands up and down Bucky’s sides, leaning up to kiss him deeply. </p><p>“You know, there’s something that I really, really want for Christmas,” Bucky grinned against his lips.</p><p>Steve grinned back, fingers toying with the edges of Bucky’s sweatpants. “Anything you want, and it’s yours, Buck.” </p><p>“I want you to rip these off me and rim me until I forget my name,” Bucky smirked, and a blush crept up Steve’s neck at the words, before he dropped to his knees. </p><p>He reached up, running his hands along Bucky’s thick thighs, fingers digging into his legs as he abruptly turned him around, and the fabric easily gave way, pooling at his feet. </p><p>Steve couldn’t help but gape at what he saw. “You seriously were in here cooking in <i>just</i> sweatpants?” </p><p>Bucky chuckled, and wiggled his hips enticingly. “You saying you don’t like what you see?”</p><p>Steve sucked in a breath as he leaned in to press kisses against Bucky’s cheeks. “I am definitely <i>not</i> saying that.” </p><p>He leaned in, hands spreading Bucky’s ass, before he buried his face against him, tongue swiping against his hole. </p><p>“God,” Bucky moaned, sagging in his grip. “God, I love it when you eat my ass. You gonna give me a couple of fingers? Jerk me off a little? C’mon.” </p><p>And Steve? Well, Steve couldn’t help himself when Bucky got like this, telling him exactly what he wanted and how to be good for him. One of his hands came up, finger massaging his hole gently, before pressing shallowly inside him, his other hand snaking around to leisurely jerk him off. </p><p>“You’re so strong,” Bucky murmured, gasping when Steve crooked his finger inside of him. “It doesn’t take anything for you to be able to hold me up, does it? You could do this all day. Would you like that? If I asked you to do that?” </p><p>Steve was dimly aware of just how achingly hard he was in his boxers, but it never mattered. When it came to Bucky, he wanted to give and give and give. He always came second, and he was completely fine with that. In fact, judging by the amount of times he’d jerked off to scenarios that were extremely similar to this one, he might have even loved it.</p><p>He was getting good at predicting when Bucky would come now, his moans and whimpers always got increasingly loud and desperate. He didn’t let up until he felt Bucky come across his hand, massaging him through it. </p><p>When he pulled away and stood up, Bucky kiss him hard, tongue sliding hot into his mouth. “Good?” he murmured.</p><p>“What’s my name again?” Bucky blinked, before chuckling and leaning in to press a lingering kiss against Steve’s lips. </p><p>“It’s always good with you, Steve,” Bucky murmured, smiling gently, before his hand drifted down to cup him through his boxers. Steve let out a gasp, pushing into Bucky’s hand. </p><p>“And I do so love seeing what a super soldier can do,” Bucky grinned wickedly, pushing his hand down his boxers. “They made you strong...made you big <i>all over</i>...”</p><p>When Bucky pulled his boxers down and sunk to his knees, Steve gasped again. </p><p>“Sam gonna mind if we’re a little late?”</p><p>Steve had to spend a good ten seconds trying to remember who Sam was, before he said something like ‘oh, it’s probably okay if we’re 10 minutes late or so,’ but he was so focused on Bucky’s steel blue-gray eyes looking up at him that he was 97% sure that whatever he said was a whole lot less dignified than that.</p><p>“Good,” Bucky grinned, pressing a kiss against the head of his cock. “I like to take my time with you.” </p><p>And fuck if Steve didn’t like it too.</p><p>(When he finally remembered to text Sam and tell him that they were on their way a good half an hour later, Sam texted back with ‘Yeah, I know exactly why you’re late.’)</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>